Why Do They Think They Can Fool Us?
by sasquatch223
Summary: Three cases: Warrick, Nick and Catherine investigate an officer involved shooting, Grissom and Sara get a dead baby girl, and Greg is stuck with backlog. Hints of GSR, Yo! Bling, Wedges, and Greather chapter 9 . T to be safe.
1. A 444, A 419, and a Backlogged Greg

Why Do They Think They Can Fool Us

**Why Do They Think They Can Fool Us?**

_A/N: Second fanfic. Please R&R!! Sara is still here, because I want her to be here. rolls eyes Re. Hodges' charm thing-I don't think he's charming, but Wendy obviously does. I expected this fic to have longer chapters, but this one just ended up being short. I guess that's just the way I roll. _

_Disclaimer: I do not own CSI. It belongs to TPTB. (I'm going to start using TPTB a lot, since I just found out what it stands for)_

Shift had just started, and the CSIs were in the break room, waiting for their assignments from Grissom. "Alright, Cath, you, Warrick and Nicky have a 444 out on the Strip. Under regular circumstances, we wouldn't need three of you at an officer involved shooting. I was about to pull you off for my case, Nick, when I heard the cops repeat the body count. 7 dead, 11 injured," Grissom said, not raising his eyes from a clipboard. Catherine sighed. "7 dead? Honestly, if it's another trigger-happy rookie…" She trailed off and headed out with Warrick. "Greg, you have the backlog from last week." Greg grumbled, "Why is it always me? You could go get Ronnie. She's newer." Grissom replied: "It's not a question of who's newer, Greg. That backlog case with the dead singer is complicated. I need you to review it." Greg rolled his eyes, and slouched off. "That leaves you and me, Sara. We're doing the 419 over at that kindergarten in Henderson."

Warrick, Nick, and Catherine were driving to the crime scene in his Tahoe. Catherine was bitter. "Ugh, yet another officer involved shooting. I swear, nowadays people are just joining the cops so they can threaten baddies with guns." Warrick was slightly more optimistic. "Ah, look on the bright side, Catherine. At least you don't have to do Greg's backlog."

Greg tried to cheer himself up by brewing his favorite Blue Hawaiian coffee. Normally he loved working solo, even in the lab, because it meant he could blast his music as loud as he wanted to. Not tonight, though. Halfway through "Feel Like Makin' Love", Wendy had walked in and yelled at him. Without Greg's music bursting everyone's eardrums, the hallways of CSI seemed eerily quiet. As part of his new political campaign, Ecklie had taken Bobby, Archie and Mandy out in the field. Henry was on sick leave. That meant only Greg, Wendy and Hodges were in this wing of the building. Greg decided to have a peek at what they were doing.

"A dead body at a kindergarten? Wow, Vegas is really changing," Sara said. She and Grissom were en route to the Young Minds nursery and kindergarten, where an anonymous caller had reported a dead baby girl, dumped by some bougainvillea bushes.

After two wrong turns, Warrick, Nick and Catherine had finally arrived at the scene of the 444, a dark alley off the Strip. There were three ambulances there, for treating the wounded; and a coroner's van, for transporting the already dead. "Is the shooter dead?" Nick asked David Phillips. "No, he's alive and well," David replied, raising his eyebrows. "Usually, shootings like this, cop kills himself. Not this one. Brass is taking his statement over there." Catherine called to Warrick and Nick: "Nick, you go see what Brass' got, and collect evidence off the cop while you're at it. Warrick and I will process the alley." Nick saluted and headed for Brass. Warrick and Catherine started snapping photos and putting evidence markers down.

Greg's eyes widened. He had stuck his head around the corner to see what Wendy was up to in the DNA lab. Now he was staring Wendy and Hodges, who were doing some hardcore flirting. Wendy was batting her eyelashes, and Hodges was turning on his charm thing. Greg slowly backed out of Wendy's lab and sat down at his own desk. He pulled the casefiles closer, and sipped his Blue Hawaiian as he looked them over. _God_, he thought. _This case is so boring_. Greg nodded off, re and re-re reading the same sentence, when suddenly he froze. "What's that?" he muttered. "It can't be." Reading out loud, Greg said:_ "…The poison might have been administered through his tea. Annie Simonovic: Wait… I remember he said something about the tea tasting like almonds. I thought it was really weird, since it was bergamot tea and I didn't add anything."_ Greg frowned. "Almonds? How can this be?"


	2. No Amazing Breakthroughs Yet

Why Do They Think They Can Fool Us

**Why Do They Think They Can Fool Us?**

Grissom and Sara, both holding their field kits, caught up with the uniformed officer at the kindergarten reception. "Some guy called it in. Body's in the bushes. I've kept the scene clean, put up the tape. I'll leave for my patrol now, but the Sergeant's over there," the cop told Grissom and Sara. They all waved to Sergeant O'Riley, who was taking a shaking woman's statement. The cop returned to the police cruiser and drove off. Grissom and Sara walked towards the bougainvillea bushes. When they arrived at the site, Dr. Robbins was there, taking the little girl's liver temperature. "Been dead around three hours. Ligature marks around the neck. I'm thinking strangulation," Robbins said. "Thanks, Al. We'll take it from here," Grissom said as Robbins packed up his coroner's kit and walked away. Grissom and Sara glanced around the crime scene, taking it in. "I thought the call specified a baby girl?" Sara asked, baffled. She was looking at a toddler, possibly five or six. "Well," Grissom replied, "We all have different perceptions on how old a baby is supposed to be."

"76 shell casings so far," Warrick called to Catherine, who was examining blood spatter. "Most are from the cop's gun, a .45 caliber, but there are a few .38's here." Just then, Nick walked up the alley. "Processed the cop. Lots of empty magazines, a couple wounds. Bullet grazed his leg. Brass finished taking his statement, sounded fishy," Nick reported. Warrick asked, "Did any of the dead or injured have guns on them?" Nick replied, "Nope, but maybe someone split after the fact." Catherine snapped off a few photos of a large blood pool near the end of the alley. "There's a large pool here," she reported. "Possibly from the dead guy who was shot in his spinal cord. He would have been paralyzed, and that's probably why the blood is all in one spot." Catherine sighed. "I'll have to take samples of everything and bring it back to the lab. Wendy's going to love me."

Greg was on the internet, confirming his suspicions. "I was right," he whispered. "Almonds. Bitter almonds." He rushed out, skidding down the hallway to the morgue. "Super Dave? Dr. Robbins?" Greg called. "They're both out processing," replied Jenna, the other assistant coroner. Greg, still catching his breath, asked, "You remember that dead singer from last month? Burned beyond recognition? Jeremy Simonovic? Where is he now?" Jenna walked over to the body drawers, scanning the labels. "I think the Doc released him last week." She scurried to a computer, typing in Jeremy Simonovic's name. "Yeah, released for burial to an Annie Simonovic. His wife. Why?" Greg paced around, then said,"COD was undetermined, as was TOD. Too burnt up, right? If we could get the body back, and I asked you to look for something specific, would you be able to find it? "Possibly. It'll depend on what you're actually looking for." Greg specified. "Traces of poison?" Jenna thought about it. "Maybe, and it's a big maybe."


	3. Coffee, Coffee, Exhumation

A/N: You guys should be grateful

_A/N: You guys should be grateful! I was supposed to be revising for the big exams when I wrote this chapter. So, to express your gratitude-review! OR ELSE! In an attempt to make this chapter longer and cure myself of my short-chapter affliction, I will include six paragraphs/viewpoints instead of three, as in the previous chapter. Lame attempts to include subtle Yo! Bling and GSR, because I'm being totally deprived of my ships. Not subtle at all Wedges, because I'm being totally deprived of my ships. Tribute to Anniethe best recapist ever: CAPTAIN UNDERPANTS! Message to TPTB: :(_

_**Why Do They Think They Can Fool Us?**_

After Grissom had finished taking photos of the body position, Sara rolled the little girl over. "What's that?" she muttered. "Something's been slipped up under her shirt-a two-by-four." Sara pulled the two-by-four out and bagged it. "Did you know that a two-by-four is actually a one-and-a-half-by-three-and- a-half?" Grissom asked. "No, Gil, I didn't know that," Sara replied. "Well, now you do," he said with a smile.

Warrick and Catherine had been at the shooting scene for nine hours now. Nick had returned to the lab to give the evidence to Wendy and the day shift ballistics tech. He had just finished doing that, and was now on his way to the hospital, to interview the survivors. "There's a long scuff on the wall here," Catherine said, photographing it. "Ugh," Warrick groaned. "I need coffee." Catherine threw her hands up. "Then go get coffee!" Warrick didn't look up from the fibers he was lifting. "Only you, my dear, have the authority to go around the corner and get us free drinks in that coffee shop just by waving your I.D." Catherine chuckled, though she was already slinging her camera around her neck. "Are you trying to flatter me, Warrick? It won 't get you anywhere." "That's right, Cath. That's right," Warrick muttered vaguely. Catherine had already walked away.

Greg was now sitting in the DNA lab, tapping his foot impatiently. He had asked for Jeremy Simonovic to be exhumed, and cleared it with Grissom. However, due to the lack of staff in the lab, he wasn't allowed to go and watch the actual exhumation. Greg frowned. He shook his head. _Isn't this the DNA lab? _He thought. _Wendy's supposed to be here._ Acting on a sneaking suspicion, he stood up, tiptoed out and closed the door quietly. Sure enough, Hodges and Wendy were chatting in the Trace lab. Greg cleared his throat loudly. "Wendy. You're the DNA tech?" Wendy looked around guiltily, then said, "Nick didn't give me any samples to run yet. Warrick's still collecting at the scene. Since Hodges has this boatload of Trace, I figured why not help him?" Greg smiled knowingly. "You do that." He then strolled on out. "You know, he could have been a lot meaner," Wendy mused. "Yeah, he could have asked why you weren't helping that Jerry ballistics guy from days," Hodges agreed.

Grissom and Sara were packing up, preparing to leave the crime scene. They were discussing the two-by-four. It was the only out-of-the-ordinary thing they had found so far. "But why stuff a two-by-four up a little girl's back?" Sara wondered. "I don't know yet," Grissom admitted. The body was loaded onto the coroner's van. Grissom and Sara climbed into Sara's car and buckled up. "Wanna make a quick coffee stop?" Sara asked as she backed out of the nursery parking lot. "Sure. The stuff Ecklie provides tastes like motor oil, and I don't think Greg would be very happy sharing his Blue Hawaiian with us. We better grab 'n go, though, honey. This is the second dead toddler case in a month. It's high priority, so the Undersheriff'll be impatient for progress," Grissom replied. Sara nodded. "Captain Underpants," she said matter-of-factly. Grissom laughed for about ten minutes. "Whatever gave you that idea?" he choked. "My friend Annie," Sara said simply.

Catherine had returned to the alley with two extra-tall paper cups full of steaming coffee. "Alley service," she called, handing Warrick a cup. He took it gratefully and immediately began drinking. "Easy on the coffee, dude. I had to threaten a guy with prosecution for those two cups," Catherine said accusingly. "Whatever," Warrick mumbled. "Have we collected, processed, and tape-lifted everything in this alley that can be collected, processed and tape-lifted?" he asked. "Yes, and that long speech was completely unnecessary," Catherine said, picking up her kit.

Greg was falling asleep in his chair. He was nodding off, when something beeped and woke him up. "exhumation successful meet me at autopsy.", read a text from Dr. Robbins. Greg stumbled out of the DNA lab, still half-asleep. He arrived in the morgue, and was welcomed by Dr. Robbins. "Jenna told me what you wanted to know. I was waiting for you." Greg put on scrubs and gloves, then stood next to the autopsy table. "We're going to take blood from his bone marrow and send it to tox," Dr. Robbins explained. "Didn't they already do that?" Greg asked, puzzled. "No, this case was dayshift's, and I can only say this about the coroner from days: He likes it done and over with," Robbins said, rolling his eyes. As he carefully drew blood from the burnt-up body, Greg continued complaining about dayshift's incompetence.


	4. Still No Amazing Breakthroughs

A/N: Lani, hold yourself fully responsible for this update

_A/N: Lani, hold yourself fully responsible for this update. I know, the timeline is a bit strange because I said Warrick and Catherine spent nine hours at their scene, and Grissom and Sara were only investigating a single corpse. Let's just assume Grissom and Sara spent a lot of time at that café. CoughcoughGSRshippers._

_**Why Do They Think They Can Fool Us?**_

Grissom looked around the small, cozy café. "This coffee is really good, Sara", he said. "Where'd you learn about this place?" Sara sipped her cappuccino and replied, "Wendy. Her aunt's husband's mother's second cousin or something owns it." They drank their coffees in silence for a few peaceful moments. Then, Grissom looked guiltily at his watch. "We better get back to the lab," he sighed. "Or Captain Undies might fire us."

Catherine didn't know where Nick was. She peeked into Wendy's lab. Nick had been there (the huge pile of DNA samples was a giveaway), but Wendy was nowhere to be seen. Catherine stepped out of the DNA lab and headed towards Trace. It wasn't that she knew about Wendy and Hodges, it was just that Trace was the only other active lab tonight. She did have suspicions, though. Her suspicions were confirmed when she saw Wendy and Hodges with their noses stuffed into a microscope. "Wendy?" Catherine asked coolly. Wendy's reply was well-rehearsed. "Nick dropped off this huge pile of Trace, and since it's a bit quiet in my lab, I decided to come help Hodges." Catherine put her hands on her hips and said smugly, "You might not be so surprised to learn that Nick also dropped off a huge pile of DNA evidence." She headed out, obviously wanting Wendy to follow her.

"Ugh," Greg snarled. "I am SICK of waiting, honestly I am." Robbins had pulled the blood out from the bone marrow, but they had to wait until Henry came back from sick leave to run tox on it. Henry was very territorial about his toxicology equipment. Dr. Robbins was at his espresso machine, provided free by the county, because "When the coroner asks for something, they don't question it." He expertly maneuvered his crutch, and headed over to Greg. "Coffee?" he asked. Greg shook his head. "Drank three cups already." Robbins winced. "Ooh." He drank up his tall black, and chucked the cup in the bin. Greg stared at the clock as Robbins pulled a corpse out of a drawer. "I'm going to do a prelim on this little girl, from Grissom and Sara's case. Wanna stay and watch?" Greg sighed again. "I think I'm going to go see if Wendy or Hodges need any help. Though I know they'll be irked to have their time together interrupted."

Grissom and Sara were back at the lab, sorting their evidence out in the layout room. They were both talking, but not necessarily to each other. "No hairs…" Sara muttered. "No fibers," Grissom added. "We've currently got only two pieces of concrete evidence-The two-by-four and the body," Sara concluded. "Well," Grissom said. "Why don't you have a closer look at the two-by four? I'll drop in on Dr. Robbins for the prelim." Sara nodded and reached for the bindle containing the two-by-four. "Okay."

Catherine was hurrying away from the DNA lab, having escorted Wendy there. Just as she was reaching for her phone to call Nick, Grissom caught up. "Hey, Gil," Catherine said, pressing in Nick's number. "So, how's your case doing, Cath?" Grissom asked. "Not too well," Catherine replied with a grimace. "Warrick, Nick and Brass have all mysteriously disappeared. Yours?" Grissom waved his hand in the general direction of the layout room. "Sara's in there reviewing the evidence, and I'm heading down to the morgue." Apparently, Nick had answered his phone, because Catherine was now hissing at him, and seemed to have forgotten Grissom. So Grissom sped up and strolled purposefully towards the morgue, where he hoped Dr. Robbins had fared better than him and Sara in terms of evidence-collecting.

"Guys?" Greg asked tentatively, stepping into the Trace lab. Only Hodges was there. "What's the matter, you two had a fight?" Greg said, raising his eyebrows. "No, Wendy had a ton of DNA stuff from Catherine's case, so she had to go back to her lab," Hodges replied grumpily. "Too bad," Greg smirked. "Anyways I just came here to see if you needed any help. My case is going a bit slow." Hodges motioned towards the GCMS, which was producing a humongous stack of printouts. "I'm almost done," he explained. "Go help Wendy."

_A/N: I must have some kinda addiction to mentioning coffee or something._


	5. Greg the PassedAround Party Favor

A/N: I HAVE TO UPDATE THE AF FIC

_A/N: I HAVE TO UPDATE THE AF FIC!__ I haven't written anything for that in more than a month! And now everyone wants me to finish the romance fic, even though I sucked. AND I still have to write the last chapter for the mush story. I ALSO have to revise for exams. _

"Was she strangled?" Grissom asked, looking down at the little girl on the autopsy table. "Surprisingly," Dr. Robbins said, "No. These bruises around her neck were made postmortem. I'll have to open her up to find the COD." Grissom snapped on latex gloves. "Anything unusual? ID?" Robbins pointed at her wrists and ankles. "Still a Jane Doe, but I'll have O'Riley put out her photo. There's bruising on the wrists and ankles. She was restrained, maybe with duct tape." Grissom peered at the corpse. "Nothing more I can learn here," he concluded. "Page me when you open her up," he called as he exited the morgue.

"What the hell?!" Nick yelled as he stared down at his cell phone. It said: _79 new voice messages,_ and in the caller column, the numbers were all from Catherine's phone. He hadn't seen her for sixteen hours, and had no idea where she was. Nick decided to call her now. He pressed in Catherine's number. "Hello? Catherine? Where the heck have you been? I've been waiting for you at the hospital to process the victims." Catherine sounded equally exasperated. "Nick! YOU were supposed to process the victims, then WE were supposed to meet back at the lab!" Nick muttered a "Whatever", then hung up. It would be easier to go back to the lab. He didn't want to argue with Catherine.

Greg was slightly stir-crazy. When he got out in the field three years ago, he thought he'd never have to work in the lab again. Hodges was perfectly content. He considered it a privilege to work in the "clean, friendly lab". Greg was getting quite sick of helping Hodges while listening to his shameless self-promotion. Thankfully, they had analyzed almost all of the samples from the alley where the shooting took place. Hodges plopped a final sample into the GCMS. "There," he said. "All done. You can leave now, or would you like to stay and continue enjoying my company?" Greg was already halfway out the door. He scoffed, but didn't say anything.

Grissom joined Sara in the layout room. "Nothing really unusual on the body, but we'll know more when Al opens her up. Still a Jane Doe," he informed her. "There's a strange mark on the two-by-four. Looks kinda like an ink stain," Sara said, peering at the plank of wood. Grissom grabbed a magnifying glass, intending to take a closer look, just as Sergeant O'Riley walked in. "Someone recognized the girl," he called. "She's in reception, waiting to ID the body." Grissom didn't look up from the table. "You go, Sara," he said. Sara pulled off her gloves and headed after O'Riley.

Nick met up with Catherine in her office. "Where the hell have you been?" she yelled. "I thought we were supposed to meet at the hospital," Nick replied, bemused. Catherine sighed. "We just lost a couple hours. Never mind. Where's Warrick?" Nick looked confused. "Wasn't he here with you?" Catherine picked up a rubber band and snapped it. "As of now, he's missing. No one has any idea where he is. Have you seen Brass, by the way?" Nick got up from the chair he was sitting in. "Let's just TRY to work on the case without them here."

Greg had nothing to do again. He sat in the break room, sipping coffee and reading a magazine. Catherine rushed in, grabbed a sandwich from the fridge and rushed out, but skidded back in again. "WHAT are you doing, Greg?" she asked. "What does it look like to you? I'm reading a magazine and drinking coffee!" he replied. "You're relaxing while Nick and I are working our butts off on that 444?" Catherine narrowed her eyes. She dragged Greg off, intending to labor him hard.


	6. Barbie Wilson, Superheroes and Arsenic

A/N: Dammit

_A/N: Dammit! EXAMS!_

Detective O'Riley headed off to deal with a murder suspect, telling Sara that "the woman" was in reception. Sara turned the corner. "Barbara Wilson?" she asked, reading from a sheet of paper. "Call me Barbie," replied a woman with goth makeup and short blond hair. "Barbie?" called Sara, already heading out of reception. "We're going to need you to identify the body." Barbie stood up, grabbing her tiny purse. "Sure," she said, as if Sara had just asked her to go see a movie, not make positive identification on a corpse. As Sara walked down the hall, she asked, "So how did you know the deceased?"

"Julie was my daughter," Barbie replied nonchalantly. Sara looked horrified. This woman's daughter had just died, and she wasn't showing any emotion at all. When they arrived at the morgue, Barbie merely nodded and said, "That's her."

Obviously this woman had to be interrogated further, most likely with O'Riley present.

Catherine, Nick and Greg were examining the evidence Nick had collected from the shooting victims. Greg grumbled constantly. Catherine told him to shut up and keep working. "I'm supposed to be on my own case," Greg whined. "Instead Catherine drags me off to 'help', because Warrick and Brass have disappeared. Is it my fault they're not here?" Catherine pursed her lips. "Look, Henry isn't here, so you can't work on your 'case' right now. It isn't your fault Brass and Warrick are MIA, but it's _my _fault if _you're_ not working." Greg returned to sorting photographs of gunshot wounds. Suddenly his pager beeped with a message from Dr. Robbins. It said: _Henry's here! _ "What the-?" Greg exclaimed.

Greg rushed down the hall to the morgue. Henry was on sick leave. Was this some kind of joke? He found out that it wasn't. When he arrived, Dr. Robbins was taking a syringe full of blood out of a cooler. "Henry's here? He's supposed to be on sick leave!" Greg said in amazement. "It's me," Henry said, popping out from behind some shelving cabinets. "I felt a little better, so I called up to see how you guys were doing. Turns out ya'll needed my help, so here I am." Robbins held up the syringe with a tiny amount of blood. "All I could get," he said slightly apologetically. "All I need," Henry replied, shaking his head. "Would be enough to catch traces of a potent poison like arsenic."

"Your daughter, Julie Wilson, is dead," Sara said. Barbie Wilson shrugged. "So?"

"Don't you feel anything?" Barbie shook her head, and said, "She was a pain in the ass." Sara folded her arms on the table. "Did you kill Julie?" Barbie leaned back in her chair. "Yeah. I strangled her. She annoyed me." Sara looked startled at such directness. "Arrest her," she said to O'Riley. Barbie shrugged again. "I don't care. Anything's better than another minute with that brat." Sara wondered how a parent could kill her own child. (See endnote)

Catherine sighed for the umpteenth time. She and Nick still had a huge pile of wound photos they had to sort, and STILL no one had had any hint of where Brass and Warrick were. Nick gritted his teeth. "Turn off that TV for me, will ya? It's really distracting." Catherine was about to agree when she spotted two familiar faces. VERY familiar faces. She froze. "Hey, Nick? Isn't that Warrick and Brass?" For on the TV screen, were none other than their missing colleagues. The news reporter spoke rapidly, so that Catherine and Nick could only catch a few words-"…of the LVPD saved lives today…" Catherine and Nick frowned simultaneously. "Am I hearing this right? Warrick and Brass? LVPD? 'Saved lives'?"

"I guess they were too busy being superheroes to continue on with their actual jobs," muttered a bitter Catherine.

Greg was hovering impatiently over Henry, who was pressing lots of buttons on a large, complicated machine. Greg was now starting to jiggle up and down. "It's printing," Henry assured him. "Here it is. Positive for a lethal amount of arsenic." Greg's eyes widened and he punched the air. "So someone DID poison his tea! Excuse me!" Greg rushed out, avoiding a collision with a humongous machine. "Gotta go find Grissom!" he called over his shoulder.

_A/N: The girl wasn't strangled, but Sara doesn't know it yet. _

_And frankly, I don't much care about the frickin' exams._


	7. Return of the Supermen

A/N: Me does not care

_A/N: Me does not care!_

Sara poked her head in through the door. "Grissom?" she called. "Our Jane Doe is Julie Wilson. Her mother came in and ID'd her. She also confessed to strangling her daughter." Grissom was still inspecting the ink-like stain. "The mother may have strangled Julie, but the bruises on her neck were postmortem. COD was something else. Dr. Robbins was just about to open her up when I left the morgue."

Sara thought this over. "So we can nail Barbie Wilson for child abuse, but not murder. The real killer is still somewhere out there. So, what do we do now? Do I go up to Barbie and say, 'Hey, you didn't kill your daughter'?" Grissom was silent for a moment. "Maybe not. We might have a better chance of finding the real murderer if we can extract more information from Barbie Wilson. We can make a deal with her, less jail time, perhaps?"

"I don't think she cares about how long she's going to jail for," Sara replied. "After having met her, my opinion is this: She just wanted to get rid of Julie."

"Do you think Ecklie will be pissed at our two 'superheroes'?" Nick asked Catherine. They were finally starting to make progress, and were figuring out the order in which the victims were shot. "I certainly hope so," Catherine replied. Just then, Warrick and Brass entered. "Well, hello, supermen," Catherine said dryly. Warrick swished his nonexistent cape, and Brass gave a gracious bow. Catherine and Nick rolled their eyes.

Greg peeked in Grissom's office. He wasn't there. Greg wondered if he had completed his case and returned home for once. If that was the case, it was probably why he hadn't seen Sara either. Even though he was pretty sure no one was in the layout room, Greg checked anyway. To his surprise, both Grissom and Sara were there, talking about their case. Without bothering to say "hi" or anything, Greg immediately said, "There was arsenic in the burnt-up guy's blood."

"Reopen the case," Grissom said simply. "You have my approval."

Sara was back in the interrogation room, talking to Barbie Wilson. "I killed her," Barbie said. "I don't have anything else to say." She picked at her long, manicured nails. "Who was Julie's father?" Sara asked. "Why?" Barbie said. "Why not?" Sara replied. "Trent. Trent Buchanan."

"You're not married?"

"No. Marriage goes against my principles. Julie took my name. I'm guessing you want Trent's address and phone number?" Barbie took out a post-it from her purse and wrote on it. "Here," she said, passing the yellow note across the table.

"Okay, so Jennifer Cummings was shot first," Catherine said, placing a photo of Jennifer at the edge of the layout table. "She lived. Then came Thomas Barlow," she paused to pick out the photo, "Who died." Nick took the pile of yet to be sorted photos and laid them out. He put down each victim's photo as he said their names: "Kenny Briggs, died. Loretta Bailey died. Dawn Easton, lived." He continued in this fashion until all the victim files were sorted. They had their attack order. Suddenly Catherine whipped her head around. "Where are they?" Nick knew who she was talking about, of course. "Ecklie wanted to see them," he said.

Greg reread the original casefile and added his own notes. He decided he needed to go see Annie Simonovic, Jeremy's wife. Greg didn't bother to call Grissom. He grabbed Annie's address from the file, and headed out to Summerlin.


	8. Some Kind of Closure

_A/N: After Warrick getting shot, I needed to do SOMETHING. Relax people, he's not going to die in my fic. Sara's not going to leave either. Many thanks to reviewers: Lani, Heather, Augusta, Jenne, Katy and csiFREAK24. _

Sara hung up, and tried again. After the third time she'd tried to call Trent Buchanan's number, she gave up and decided to go get O'Riley. They'd go to his supposed residence. She headed to an interrogation room and patiently waited for the Sergeant to finish his talk with a guy she wasn't familiar with. Finally, the person O'Riley was interviewing stood up with a smug smile and turned to leave. The Sergeant exited as well, shutting the door behind him. "We need to go to a Trent Buchanan's house," Sara said quickly. O'Riley sighed. "Anything is better than that other case I'm working on. Dead ends galore." Sara tried to look sympathetic, but thought she failed. They walked to the parking lot and got into Sara's car.

"So, Brass," Catherine said. "What reason did our guy provide for shooting eighteen people?" Brass rolled his eyes. "It was apparently his way to de-stress, after having to quit PD because of his wife." Catherine, Warrick and Nick looked aghast. "Couldn't someone have gotten him a squeezy stress ball?" Warrick asked, shaking his head. "There are millions of ways a person can 'de-stress' without hurting other people," Nick added. "We can go give him a stress ball in jail," Catherine suggested. "He'll have plenty of de-stressing time in there." Nick threw down a victim's photo. "So, Jim, if you had told us this twelve hours ago, we wouldn't have had to sort through huge piles of evidence."

"Er… yes," Brass admitted sheepishly.

Greg rang the doorbell for the fifth time. He peered in through a gap in the curtains. Annie Simonovic, or anyone else for that matter, didn't seem to be there. Greg gave up and opened the case file he was holding, calling Annie's cell phone. No one answered. He thought for a minute, then flipped the file to another page, finding that Annie owned a car. Greg called Brass on speed dial and when he answered, said: "Hey, Jim, have you wrapped your case yet? I need a favor." Brass was silent for a moment. "Well, it's not wrapped, per se, but I can do a small favor." Greg sighed. "Good. Can you put out a broadcast on an orange Lamborghini with the license plate 738JOG?" Brass paused as he wrote it down. "Sure, if that car is on the roads, it'll be easy to spot. An orange Lamborghini." Greg could just imagine Brass raising his eyebrows.

"Trent Buchanan?" Sara addressed the small, mousy man in front of her. He had the air of a computer nerd who only went out of his house to buy groceries. Then again, maybe he bought his groceries online. Who knew nowadays. "Is it about Barbie again?" Trent said tiredly. "In a sense," Sara replied, "yes. Your daughter Julie is dead." Trent leant against the doorframe, as if half a minute of actually standing up tired him immensely. "Did you talk to Barbie?" he asked, not sure whether to look at O'Riley or Sara. He seemed to settle on Sara, as the Sergeant had yet to say something. "Yes, she confessed to strangling Julie," Sara explained as Trent gasped loudly. "But that wasn't the cause of death," she continued. Trent looked a little less shocked, but not any less distraught. "We're hoping you might be able to help us find her real killer. May we come in?" Sara said. Trent moved to the side to allow her and O'Riley entrance.

"We're just going to tell the victims and their families they were hurt because some random cop couldn't control his stress?" Catherine asked in disbelief. "Well, what else could we say? The victims and their families get closure, in the loosest sense of the word. The bad guy gets put away, and we've solved another case," Nick said. Catherine, Nick, Warrick and Brass were all silent for a moment. "Let this be a lesson to us all," Warrick concluded.

Greg had to wait. Again. He decided not to go back to the lab, in case Brass was able to actually track down Annie's car. So Greg went to a nearby drive-in, bought a burger and fries, and sat in his car. He really didn't have anything better to do right now.


	9. Greather is Canon!

_A/N: I know you guys have been reading this fic and I really appreciate it, but I'd like at least some of you to tell me what you think by reviewing. I'm not asking everyone to review every chapter, but maybe once in a while someone can give me their opinion on this. Thanks in advance._

_A/N #2: There may not be updates for a while because I have a whole load of final assessment stuff to do for school. _

_A/N #3: YOU BETTER REVIEW THIS CHAP, HEATHER! Greather will be canon, you say. I made it canon in this chapter! _

_A/N #4 (For people who have no earthly idea what I was talking about in A/N #3): One of my very good friends, Heather, is obsessed with Greg and ships Greather, which, is Greg+Heather. I did her a favor in this chapter and made it fanfic-canon._

_A/N #5: Enough authors' notes! On with the fic!_

Trent Buchanan's townhouse was the one of a typical computer nerd. Very little ordinary furniture, with most surplus space being filled with electronics of some sort or other. Sara and the Sergeant perched onto small, grimy-looking chairs, while Trent merely plopped himself on the floor. "So…" Sara ventured, deciding this would be a good place to start as any, "Let's start with your relationship with Barbie. Don't take offense, but you are not the kind of guy who usually lands a girl like her." Trent adjusted his position on the floor. "I've been asked that many more times than you can count. Well, it went like this: She fell out with her brother fifteen years ago, when she was a teenage runaway. She was only thirteen then. When Barbie was twenty, she wanted to get back in touch with her brother Jonathan, so she hired me to do it. Apparently, all those internet trawls had caused us to fall in love with each other," Trent said, rolling his eyes. "And there's Julie. After she was born, we didn't break up, per se, but we drifted apart and Julie lived with Barbie. She did visit me twice a week though."

Trent held up a hand to silence O'Riley, who he could see was about to speak. "I saw her for the last time three days ago," Trent informed him. O'Riley jotted down notes and started asking Trent questions, while Sara poked around.

Catherine, Warrick, Nick and Brass were chilling out in a diner. They had just wrapped up the cop shooting case. There were lots of loose ends though, ones that none of them could tie up. So they decided to leave that to everyone else. "I put out a broadcast on an orange Lamborghini for Greg," Brass said thickly through a mouthful of bacon and eggs. "If we locate it, Greg might need us to pitch in on his case," he continued. Catherine, Warrick, and Nick merely nodded. At that moment, Brass' phone rang. Picking it up, he said: "Brass. Yes. I did." After a pause, "Are you sure? Red Rock Canyon? Okay. Thank you." Brass hung up and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "They found Annie Simonovic's car. Near Red Rock Canyon. It was apparently abandoned and detailed. Probably to get rid of any incriminating evidence," Brass said, addressing his colleagues. Everyone got ready to leave, as Nick paid the bill.

Greg was getting seriously sick of sitting, eating, and doing nothing else. He was just nodding off as his phone rang. Looking at the caller ID, his eyes widened. "Heather?!" he said incredulously to the voice on the other end. "Didn't I tell you not to call me at work?" Heather replied, "You know you love it when I call you, no matter where you are." Greg could just imagine her smirking. They exchanged witty comments for a few minutes until Greg noticed that his phone was vibrating in his palm. "Heather, baby, Detective Brass is calling me. I'll get to you later." He pressed a few buttons on his cell phone, and lifting it to his ear again, said, "Brass? Yeah. Okay. Coming."

Sara, finding nothing of particular interest in the house, decided to interrupt O'Riley's interrogation. "Excuse me, Mr. Buchanan? Would you mind if I look in your garage?" Trent nodded dismissively, saying, "Be my guest." Sara exited through the back door. She peered in the garage, seeing a rusty Chevy Impala. Spotting some large shelves and cupboards on her left, she opened some. Most were empty save for a few unused power tools, but when Sara pushed the tools aside, she found a stack of sawed-out two-by-fours stuffed in the back. She closed the cupboard and headed back inside to ask Trent about the planks of wood.

Catherine, Warrick, and Nick all piled into Brass' car. Nick sat in front with Brass, while Catherine and Warrick slid into the backseat. Whilst Brass drove, everyone else either stared out of the window, or, occasionally, complained about his driving skills. There came an unexpected shriek from the backseat, and Nick turned around in alarm only to find Catherine laughing. After a moment, both Catherine and Warrick were chortling extremely loudly, with Catherine saying, in between giggles, "Stop it! Stop poking me! Find something else to do!" But Warrick was unrelenting.

Greg started driving. He turned on the radio and starting humming along, until he realized he'd forgotten to do something. Taking his phone from his pocket, he pressed a number on speed dial. Heather, for of course it was she, immediately answered. "Let's pick up where we left off, shall we?" Greg asked. Heather giggled and began talking.


	10. A New Case

_A/N: Depressed. All who know me will know why. That's the reason I'm writing instead of doing my frikkin final assessments. _

_A/N #2: Greather again for the hell of it. Review, Heather. What you've been waiting for will arrive in the next chapter._

"Mr. Buchanan?" Sara stuck her head into Trent Buchanan's living room. Trent turned, slightly annoyed, as he seemed to have been accounting his whole life to a tired-looking Sergeant O'Riley. "Why is there a stack of two-by-fours in your garage?" Sara waved a plank around to accentuate her question. Trent looked a little surprised that such a seemingly innocent item could arouse such suspicion, but answered anyways. "Those are for my, erm... the… wooden models I'm making as a favor. My friend Benjamin sawed these for me." Sara inspected the two-by-four she was holding. "This one looks like it's made of the same kind of wood as the rest of the two-by-fours," she observed. "That's because they are made of the same kind of wood," Trent replied. Sara bit her lip and thought. "Do you mind if we take one of these back to the lab for a comparison?" she finally asked. To her surprise, Trent did not ask why. "Take all you want. I can always tell Ben to saw me more."

Catherine, Nick, Brass and Warrick had arrived at Red Rock Canyon, and were waiting for Greg. Just then, Grissom called Catherine. "Yeah?" she answered. "Okay. I'll bring Warrick." Flipping her phone closed, she addressed Warrick. "Grissom wants us at a store burglary off the Strip." Warrick sighed. "He could have called us earlier. We have no car." Everyone pondered over this dilemma for a moment, until Nick suggested, "Why don't we wait for Greg, then you two can take his car? We'll take Brass' back to the lab, and Greg can pick up his car." Catherine, Warrick and Brass nodded, simply because they couldn't think of a better plan.

"I have something really special to tell you tonight," Greg said to Heather over the phone. "Okay. We're meeting at that what-its-name restaurant again, aren't we?" Heather replied. Greg didn't bother to remind her of the restaurant name. "Yeah. I'm heading for Red Rock Canyon right now. I'm meeting up with the team there. Love you. Bye." He hung up, and put the phone back into his pocket. Minutes later, Greg pulled his car in next to Brass'. "Hey," he said, slamming the car door behind him. Catherine approached him immediately. "Greggo, we need your car. Grissom's assigned us to a different case and only you and Brass have your cars. We'll give it to you back at the lab." Catherine held out her hand for the keys. Greg didn't argue, but said, "I need them back by my break at seven. I'm taking Heather to dinner." Catherine rolled her eyes, snatched the keys, grabbed Warrick by the arm, got into the car, and drove off.

Sara and Sergeant O'Riley were driving back to the lab. "I didn't get anything useful apart from every single detail of the guy's life," O'Riley groaned, flexing his wrist, which hurt from taking rapid notes. Sara sympathized, saying that all the stuff could be useful for later. As they turned a corner, Sara accidentally skid the tires so that the car almost crashed into a wall. The Sergeant breathed a sigh of relief and said, "God, Sara! You should have let me drive. When was the last time you slept?" Sara leaned back in her seat. "Um… about thirty hours ago." O'Riley worriedly told her to go home and get some sleep. "No, no, I'm fine. I have to report to Grissom back at the lab," Sara replied hurriedly and continued driving.

"You better not poke me on this trip," Catherine warned Warrick. "Don't worry," he laughed. "I know you can be a lethal weapon on wheels when you want to be."

Catherine ignored this. She smacked her mouth and licked her lips. "I'm thirsty," she complained. Spotting a 7-11 ahead, she pulled over. "Whoa!" yelled Warrick as he was almost thrown out of his seat. Catherine rushed out, bought an iced coffee, and rushed back in. Closing the driver side door, she drank furiously. Warrick looked slightly edgy. "Are you sure you should be drinking that? We had coffee at the shooting scene, coffee again at the diner, and you're drinking coffee now yet again?" Catherine ignored him. She wondered if ignoring Warrick would start to be a habit.

Brass, Nick and Greg, the latter two holding their field kits, headed towards the abandoned orange Lamborghini. "It hasn't been detailed," Greg said with surprise. Usually with vehicle dumps, the car would be either trashed or showroom clean. And this was neither. There were burger wrappers and drink cups scattered across the backseat and in the front seat was… Annie Simonovic's dead body. Nick checked for a pulse and not finding one, called dispatch on his radio to get in touch with a coroner. Brass leaned in through an open window, careful not to touch it, or anything else. "She looks like she was strangled," he observed, noting bruises on Annie's neck. "We're gonna have to wait. Again." Greg gritted his teeth.


End file.
